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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171410">Permanence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurkeySeasonings/pseuds/TurkeySeasonings'>TurkeySeasonings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Didn't Start The Fire (MCYT Angst) [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dissociation, Endless! AU, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Beta Read, Open to Interpretation, Post Manberg Festival, Tschlatt, i just like the au itself, its not even major</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurkeySeasonings/pseuds/TurkeySeasonings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>per·ma·nence<br/>/ˈpərmənəns/<br/>noun<br/>noun: permanence; plural noun: permanences</p><p>the state or quality of lasting or remaining unchanged indefinitely.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Didn't Start The Fire (MCYT Angst) [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Permanence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>basically i was being an idiot and lost all of the stories i was going to work on two days ago.</p><p>special thanks to Precious Jewel Amor who wrote the lyrics find the song here<br/>https://youtu.be/ekjmzPIqqZU</p><p>this is based off a platonic (could be taken any way i think though) skephalo oneshot i read called love letters where skeppy wrote letters everyday to a dead bbh for years and years. it was on wattpad, if anyone knows what im talking about could you let me know?</p><p> </p><p>this is also based off "mother drake (your duckling drowned)" by Anonymous<br/>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079606/chapters/66119608</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how many years it’s been. His family and friends are all gone, they’ve been gone for a long time. He doesn’t remember why they left them. Everywhere he looked was destruction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When my friends and I fought for freedom</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their names were nothing but a blur. He hasn’t talked to his friends in a long time. He couldn’t remember why... The years have blurred together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Arrows from the sky and bombs beneath my feet, oh</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could vaguely remember what this civilization used to be called. Something ending in SCP.. No that wasn’t it... The boy shrugged. He didn’t need to know what this place used to be called. He didn’t know his own name anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the final night I was led to my demise</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered a small crowded area, chests lining the walls. His friends were there, he thinks. Maybe, maybe they would be there again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking the long brown trench coat from his waist he quickly threw it over the red and white t-shirt. There used to be a long oak path over a river. The river was gone, just like himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trust a comrade, fall into my death hole</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friends weren’t there. Many days and nights have passed, as he sat on the smooth stone hill. That wasn’t gone at least. It brought some comfort to himself. The small room with a bed and a couch. An enderchest on the other side of the door. An escape minecart. He never needed to escape though. There was nothing left to run from. Any living animal was decomposing under the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This world was dying if not already dead. Since the beginning of it’s existence it has been dying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Free at last, I’m homeless though I finally live in peace</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As peaceful as it may seem to the boy. He was still a child. He would never get to live his childhood. He liked to smell the flowers. Aching thoughts in the back of his mind, almost a deathly stinging fact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A nation was born inside the walls I always see</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tall dark walls and little light was just a remnant of the past. A painting if you will. There weren’t any walls around this old civilization for miles and miles. He found a glowing golden apple. It was bitter like it’s original owner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My friends have skirmishes but I’m just living life much quieter</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could remember bits of what happened. He could remember wearing a red tie. A green shirt. Tears welling in his eyes accompainied by a lump in his throat. He could remember a man with goat horns. He was scared back then. He wasn’t scared now. They were dead. That’s why they left him. He was still alive. He remembered fighting. A house and a tree burning. Pets succumbing to the sickness. He knew why his head hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been called a fool so much for being the humbler one</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought came from nowhere. We’re they even his friends? It’s been years since he thought about them. This world was almost gone. He had gotten bored. So he started mining. He didn’t stop until the pickaxe broke, just like a representation of himself. Thoughts from the past wouldn’t stop being an annoying fly daring you to smack your face. He forgot why his head hurt, only a fool would forget.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When my friends this time fought for power</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy wanted more. He was still a boy. He hasn’t changed a single hair as everything around him did. He never grew, and didn’t die. He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t starve either. It was a waste of time in a weird way. He crafted a new diamond pickaxe, an urge to name it to something less boring. He brought the pickaxe up to his ram-like horns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two of them were thrown away from this land, oh</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His count of time has been lost. Not like he didn’t know how long it had been to begin with. He was sitting on the bedrock. Simply bored. There was nothing left for him to do. He had gone exploring a few hours ago. Actually, it could have been years ago. The sunsets and sunrises were slower now. They didn’t pass in an instant like they used to. The same instant he would never be the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eyes for enemy sides, thought I was far from my demise</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t going to die anytime soon. He knew for sure. He was being taunted. His own anatomy was changing. Slowly and painfully adapting to having almost no oxygen where he stood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t believe what I adorned was my death hole</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His vision was blurry a lot. He couldn’t see far away as if there was anything to see. He had evolved. Maybe it was evolution, but evolution wouldn’t just turn him into a ram hybrid. It could’ve been worse. He almost starved during those painful times. Those times where he crafted many swords and brought them down onto the grey block at the bottom of the world. The block didn’t deserve a name anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can hear my best friend shout my name</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh.. It was all coming back to him now. He had a name. Tubbo. That’s what they all called him. They were his friends. He had bees. And he had Tommy. He had Wilbur, Quackity, even Dream! They were all there for him. He wished they didn’t leave. He wished Wilbur never pressed the button. He wished they survived the explosion of L’M-Manberg. He wished he ran away with Tommy. He wished Technoblade never shot him, though he didn’t blame the pig hybrid. Nobody knew how painful the red white and blue firework rockets would actually be in the long run. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Betrayed twice, story stays the same</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat down onto the suffocating bedrock once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbo</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t know when he had stood up. So he sat there, for a very long time. Replaying the memories of people who were alive centuries ago. He was tired without them. So very tired. Just wanting to go to sleep and never wake up again. But he didn’t. He couldn’t sleep; it had been so long he forgot how. It was time for a change. He had destroyed the entire world years ago. He had any block he could ever desire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>False assurance of safety, can’t trust anybody</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decided to build instead. He built statues, every single memory from long ago fresh in his mind. Every face, memorized in his head as if he had met them yesterday. So he began his work. They were all there now. It was as if they never left! They never left this world. And they never left him...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to fall in this death hole.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you could say this is a vent fic? i don't know what to do anymore im just thinking about what to do. what i will do though is finish up the other 2 stories i know i can write and finish. please leave comments for suggestions im lost</p><p> </p><p>feel free to use the Endless! AU tags for stories, its basically any mcyt or any fandom character being immortal and living forever through sadness and stuff idk</p></blockquote></div></div>
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